Post Mortem Lividity
by Melpomene blue
Summary: They said she was a warning...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Post Mortem Lividity

Author: melpomeneblue

Disclaimer: Not mine, no monies made…

OoO

The lab was anything but quiet when Booth entered. Beetle races were apparently underway again which meant Cam was not expected to be present for at least the rest of the morning. The last beetle rally he'd witnessed ended with Cam's rolled up case notes squashing "Henry" just before he crossed the finish line. Booth ignored the race and strode straight into Brennan's office.

He could see her deep into her work, papers scattered across the floor, scribbling something in a notebook, and he smiled. He'd worked with plenty of professionals but Bones was the only one who seemed to prefer the floor as her work surface.

"Bones!"

She remained on the floor, her concentration unaltered. "Don't call me that," she said distractedly.

"Tempe," he amended with a sly grin.

That got her attention away from her work. "Temperance," she corrected. "I'm busy, Booth. What do you want?"

"Angela."

She twisted around to face him more fully. "I'm not Angela."

"No, I know that. She's what I want – I mean... I want to borrow Angela."

"That implies that Angela is property," she stated flatly. "Angela is not property, she's a very talented forensic artist who deserves to be respected as such... not borrowed like… a cup of flour." She turned away from him with an air or vague disgust. "This is my office, maybe you should try hers."

She had gone back to her notes when she added, "Have you talked to Cam about borrowing Angela?"

He sat down on the couch near her spot on the floor. "I was going to but Cam's apparently not here yet. So I'm asking you."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Beetle races. Besides, Angela's not here yet either." He smiled when she met his gaze fully. "I did try calling first. Did she take a day off? If so, you might want to give her a call."

A frown marred Brennan's face. "What day is it?"

"Monday."

Brennan rose and slid into the chair behind her desk. A few keystrokes later and she was on the phone.

"Flu's been going around," he offered.

She cut her eyes at him again and disconnected the call. Before she could dial another number the phone rang. Booth raised his brows and she shook her head and hit the speaker button.

"Brennan."

"Bren?"

"Ange?" The voice on the other end of the line was faint, unsure. "Angela, are you alright?"

"Bren, I…"

"Angela," Booth called out so that he would be heard, "I just came by to borrow you for the day."

"Booth's there?" Angela's voice was fainter, more tremulous.

Brennan's brow creased. "Angela, what's going on?"

"Bren, I…" a long pause followed. "Can you come… to my place?"

Booth met Brennan's eyes, the fear and concern he felt mirrored in hers.

/to be continued/


	2. Chapter 2

"I distinctly recall Angela asking me to come to her apartment, not you."

"And I recall saying that I needed Angela. So if you're going to her apartment, I'm going to her apartment." Booth grinned grimly. "Besides, I'm the one driving, remember?"

Brennan tightened her grip on the door handle as Booth veered around a corner. "How could I forget? But based on her call, Angela might prefer that you not be there."

"Not going to happen." He lost the grin but the grimness remained.

"It's just that, she sounded… odd."

"I was there too, Bones." Booth kept his eyes on the road. That brittle tone from the forensic artist had been enough for him to forcibly include himself on Brennan's outing. That the good doctor hadn't argued with him had only fed his concern. He wasn't the only one whose internal alarms had flared.

Angela's apartment building finally materialized through the thickening snowfall.

"It's a good day to stay at home," Booth commented as he slid out of the car and felt snowflakes trying to sneak in under his collar.

"I don't think Angela stayed at home because she didn't want to drive in the snow."

Booth forced a chuckle. "You have to admit, it would be one hell of a way to get a ride to work – that call of hers."

Brennan cut her eyes at him and hurried the rest of the way across the parking lot.

The door was locked and Brennan only knocked once before fumbling with a set of keys she pulled from her coat pocket.

"You've got a key to Angela's apartment?"

She ignored the question and unlocked the door only to be stopped by the chain that had been latched on the other side.

"Ange?" Brennan peered through the crack of the door but the interior of the apartment was dark. "Angela, it's me, Brennan."

A small shuffling sound emanated from within, followed by a soft, pained gasp.

Booth pushed Brennan aside. "We're coming in, Angela." A single hard thrust of his shoulder against the door snapped the chain. The splintered edge of the door was ignored as both Booth and Brennan broached the apartment.

Flipping the wall switch did nothing nor did trying the first lamp Brennan's searching fingers located. She cast Booth a look, growing more worried with each step she took within the darkened apartment.

"Angela? Where are you?"

The shuffling sound came again and Brennan turned toward the windows on the far wall. Pulling the curtains wide helped disperse only the worst of the darkness. A heavy gloom still permeated the room and made it difficult to make out all but the most prominent furnishings.

"Bren?"

Booth rounded the couch before Brennan could turn. "Angela." He knelt next to a dark shape on the floor. "I can't see anything!" he barked in frustration. "Find a damned light that works."

He gently touched the form and was relieved to feel movement although Angela's skin was icy to the touch. "It's okay, Angela."

"Electricity must be out," Brennan said, having given up her quest after having tried a few more switches, her concern for her friend overriding her need for light. She knelt, her eyes finally adjusting to the gloom. "Oh, Angela."

Angela lay crumpled on the floor, trussed up so that she could barely move, her face a mass of bruises and smeared blood.

"What happened? Who did this?"

"Don't know… didn't say. Power was off when I got home…" Angela's voice was breathy and hoarse, her breathing erratic.

"When you came home?" Booth had begun to work at the duct tape that bound her arms behind her back.

"Yeah," her speech was slightly slurred.

Brennan tried to remember what Angela's weekend plans had been but her worst fears wouldn't allow her to believe anything but what the facts showed. "Friday. You've been like this since Friday."

Booth glanced at her.

"She was wearing this on Friday."

Booth turned his attention back to Angela again. "But you just called."

"Cell phone," She murmured, her eyes settling on the phone that lay on the floor next to her head. "Hard to dial. It was in my pocket…"

"I'm calling an ambulance." Booth had managed to unbind her arms and reached toward his pocket for his own phone.

"No!" Although her voice was still soft, there was sufficient force behind it to give him pause.

"You need to get checked out, Angela. Three days of lying here, tied up…" He worried about the sticky residue on his hands. It couldn't have all come from the tape.

"It wasn't three days. And I didn't call you, Booth." Uncharacteristic bitterness flavored her muttered words.

Brennan shoved the couch back to allow more light from the open door to illuminate her friend more clearly. She paused briefly, her eyes seeking out Booth who had moved to unbind Angela's legs.

"Angela?" Brennan kept her voice soft but steady. "Ange, why don't you want Booth to call the ambulance?"

Angela shook her head jerkily, causing her tangled hair to obscure her face. "You can't-"

"Booth's right, Angie. You really need to be looked over."

"You can't let him call."

Brennan was brought up short by Angela's hand closing over her fingers in a desperate, crushing grip. She first glanced down at Angela's white knuckled fist, then drug her gaze to her friend's face. The look in Angela's eyes was enough to convince her. "He won't call. I promise."

"What?!"

Brennan waved off Booth's incredulity, choosing to focus solely on Angela. "Can you sit up?" She had hold of Angela's arms and helped her up enough that the filtered light from the open door fell full on her face.

"'S cold…"

Brennan quickly pulled a soft throw from the arm of the couch and wrapped it around Angela's shoulders. With Booth's help, she gathered Angela into her arms and got up off the floor and onto the couch. She didn't try to disentangle herself from her friend once they were seated. Instead, she gave her a gentle hug and tried to make sense of what had happened.

Booth stood back and watched. Nervous energy wouldn't let him stay still and he wanted to ignore Angela's demand and call an ambulance, and had Bones not been present he would have. But with Bones in protective overdrive, whatever Angela wanted would be of paramount importance – everything else, even getting much needed help, would just have to wait.

He watched with mild curiosity blurring his worries. Bones was generally the epitome of social ineptitude. But this woman who was wrapped so protectively around Angela was showing no sign of her usual discomfiture. She looked oddly at ease with her mother hen role.

Angela sucked in a hitched breath and tried to stop trembling. The truth was that she had been so cold for so long that she wasn't sure she would ever be warm again. She tried envisioning herself back in the desert with the sun baking her through to the bone, but it wouldn't chase away the ice that had settled deep inside her.

"Angela?" Brennan brushed the hair away from her face, attempting to determine the extent of at least some of the injuries Angela wouldn't let get checked by professionals.

"I know, Bren. I do."

"Good, because I don't. At least let us take you somewhere with heat."

"It's… they said I was a warning," she whispered hoarsely.

"A warning?" Brennan glanced toward the far side of the room where Booth had disappeared to moments before. "Who said that, Angie?"

Booth emerged from the vicinity of Angela's bedroom, his face gray. "Come on, Angela."

"Booth, no-"

His look stopped Brennan's words. "I called Cam. I won't force the hospital issue but she needs to get out of here and into someplace warm and she needs a medical professional to make sure she's going to be alright. Camille is a doctor. She agreed to meet us at your place in half an hour."

"Cam?" Angela's trembles increased but she allowed Booth and Brennan to pull her to her feet. Her legs, however, weren't as cooperative and gave out when she tried to pull away from the hands that held her up. Booth easily swung her into his arms before she could fall. She remained silent but cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder at her apartment as they exited.

Damn. How was she going to feel comfortable, safe, there after all of this was over?

/to be continued/


	3. Chapter 3

Cam sat next to Angela on Brennan's bed and studied her face. She'd witnessed the results of so many violent acts that she had become unaffected by them, but this struck a nerve. What had been done to Angela – it had left her shaken.

She watched the slow rise and fall of her chest and gently tucked the blankets closer to her body. Her patient seemed to be warming up well enough but she worried about dehydration. She'd managed to get most of a glass of juice down Angela before exhaustion had forced them to put the glass aside.

Sighing, she rose, lowered the light and slipped out of the room, pulling the door almost shut behind her. If Angela woke and needed one of them, Cam wanted to be sure they would be able to hear her. She parted the beaded curtain that separated the living area from the rest of the apartment and faced Booth and Brennan.

"How is she, Cam?"

She frowned slightly. "It's been a long time since I dealt with a living patient, but physically she should recover. From what I can tell, she's suffered a concussion, some cracked ribs, several lacerations to her back which really need stitches instead of butterfly bandages, a wrist which is fractured and possibly broken, severe bruising to most of her body but which seems to have been concentrated to her face and feet… I'd say that whoever did this had to have tortured her for a day or more. They were thorough."

"Did she tell you who it was?" Brennan held Cam's gaze unflinchingly. "Or why?"

Cam pursed her lips and shook her head. "All she said to me was yes and no. The trauma is more emotional than physical, even as severe as the physical trauma is. She's not talking and I don't think it would be a good idea to force the issue." She sat down in a chair and leaned back against the upholstery, closing her eyes momentarily. "She'll talk when she's ready – not before."

Booth looked back toward the bedroom. "She said that she was a warning."

"But she hasn't said for whom?"

"No," Brennan replied. "There can't be that many people affected by someone attacking Angela: her father, me, Hodgins, Booth, you…"

"Well, it's a short list. We should be able to figure it out." Cam's gaze drifted from Booth to Brennan and back again.

"We should contact her family," Brennan suggested.

"I'd wait on that, Dr. Brennan. Ask Angela if she wants us to first, before we broadcast this to the world. I can't imagine she wants to end up on the evening news any time soon."

"Telling her family isn't-"

"Because of who her father is, it would wind Angela up on the front page of the Times," Booth sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

Brennan looked toward Cam. "How do you know who her father is? I didn't know until last Christmas when we were locked in the lab with that body from the bomb shelter."

"It couldn't possibly be because she listed him as her next of kin…"

"Regardless of how you know who her father is, she's going to need her family," Booth interjected, pulling the fuse before Cam and Bones' frayed nerves exploded.

"Family is a constructed ideal of societal mores and supposition. Some anthropological definitions of family only include a woman and her offspring while others involve the entire tribe. It's unfair to simply assume that Angela would want us to foster her care off on people who may or may not be suitable for the purpose of her recovery due to your ideals of familial responsibility."

Booth opened his mouth to argue when Cam spoke up. "Dr. Brennan's right, Seeley. As far as the here and now is concerned, we're Angela's family. She's not dying, informing her family can wait." She sat up straighter. "However, Zack and Hodgins will need to be told. If this is the first act of someone going after one of us, they need to know so they can take the appropriate steps to protect themselves. And realistically speaking, they're going to notice Angela's absence sooner rather than later. The question is, who's going to tell them?"

"In any other situation…" Brennan began.

"We'd get Angela to do it. Yes, I am aware of the irony. She's the people person. But that's not plausible given our current circumstances."

Booth took a deep breath. "I'll do it. Hodgins – he's crazy nuts about Angela and I'd hate to see what would happen if either of you tried to tell him that the love of his life was tortured as a message for one of us."

Cam nodded. "Especially if he's the one the warning is for."

/to be continued/

(Sorry for the inconsistency of the chapter length but that's just how they're coming out these days.)


	4. Chapter 4

She was finally warm, still hurt like hell but she was grateful for what little improvement her situation had gained. Cam had been as gentle as she could be but the patching up process had still been painful.

Trying to take her mind off the events of the last few days, Angela tried to remember the last time she had found herself expected to sleep in another girl's bed. Probably in high school at a sleep over at one friend's house or another. She wondered about the last time Brennan had probably invited a friend to sleep at her house. Certainly not in foster care, probably before her parents had abandoned her and Russ to manage as best as they could on their own. Even knowing the circumstances, it was hard not to hate Brennan's parents just a little for what they had done to their children. Who knows, with a normal adolescence, maybe Bren would have been able to improve some of those social skills she was missing so sorely.

Angela tried to squash down the rising tears that pricked at her eyelids. She was grateful for all of them: Brennan, Booth, even Cam. She hated that they were having so much disruption in their lived just because of her.

Of course, it wasn't really about her at all. The men who had broached her apartment had made that much very clear. She would have to find a way to make herself explain soon.

"_Okay now, pretty, you remember what I've told you. Your friends need to drop this or we'll be back. And if we have to come back... well, let's just say you won't be nearly so pretty anymore. And don't go thinking they can make you safe. We'll find you no matter where you try to hide. And then we'll still have our fun."_

The voices echoed in her head and she glanced around the room. Surely Brennan had a radio or a CD player, something she could use to drown out the voices reverberating in her skull. She spied something on the bookcase that looked suspiciously like what she was searching for.

Getting up was more of a challenge than she had anticipated but she made it to her feet and tottered the short distance. She pushed random buttons until the room was filled with sound. Loud, thrumming beats that almost brought a smile to her lips.

"Angela?"

She turned slowly. Cam and Brennan stood in the threshold, both of them looking at her with worry in their eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Cam asked loudly enough to be heard over the music.

She nodded and turned the volume down a few notches, swaying unsteadily on her feet. "It was too quiet. I keep hearing them," her voice was still raspy and she struggled to swallow against the rawness.

"The people who did this," Cam stated.

Angela nodded again, losing the battle against her tears.

"Angela…" Cam stood where she was, allowing Dr. Brennan to help steady Angela. Brennan was the best friend, after all, and Cam had never done the whole girly thing very well. Granted, neither did Brennan. Cam stood back to watch and monitor her patient. Angela was a good teacher, she could guide Brennan enough in what she needed and wanted. Cam gladly accepted that she was only there in the capacity of physician.

"We'll find them, Angela," Brennan reassured her friend, sounding far more certain than she felt.

Angela allowed Brennan to help her back to the bed, even allowed her to smooth the coverlet and linens back down over her. She needed to tell Bren what had happened but she sure as hell didn't want to.

"You can stay here."

"What?" Angela glanced up at Brennan and realized her mind had wandered.

"You're welcome to stay here, as long as you need to. You can't go back to your apartment even if they do reconnect your electricity today."

"Where's Booth?"

Cam took a step closer to the bed. "He went to the Jeffersonian to speak with Dr. Hodgins and Dr. Addy."

"Oh." The trembles were back and Angela felt no desire to try to stop them. She was scared, more scared than she could remember ever being.

"I'll just-" Cam backtracked to the door and had almost departed entirely when Angela stopped her.

"No, don't go yet. I'd rather… I don't want to have to say this more than once."

Brennan glanced back at Cam who had slowly returned to the foot of the bed. Biting her lip, Brennan sat down next to Angela and stroked her friend's hand. "Maybe you should wait for Booth to come back, Ange. Or, we could call your father?"

"No, don't. This isn't about my dad and you can tell Booth later… when he comes back, or… I don't think I'll be able to do this if I wait any longer." Angela squeezed Brennan's hand. Her other hand, the one they'd slammed against her kitchen counter and then used to hold her down immobilized, was wrapped in a bandage that extended all the way from her fingers to her elbow and her fingers still hurt when she tried to move them.

"I got home Friday and the lights were off. I thought it was just a brown out – nothing to be concerned about. I was going to change and leave right away anyway." She dropped her gaze to her lap. "They were waiting in my bedroom. I tried to get away, Bren. I did."

"I know you did. Ange. Of course you tried to get away." She kept her grip on Angela's hand.

"They kept saying that I couldn't forget, that this was just a warning. That they'd come back…"

"They're not coming back. We won't let them."

A sad smile twisted her lips. "You can't stop them, Bren. No one can. They said that if the lab continued to assist the FBI with the identification project, that…"

"That what, Angela?" Cam didn't want this drug out any longer than was absolutely necessary. Angela's mental state was just as fragile as the physical.

"That I wouldn't be so pretty anymore?" She turned her face away from the women who hovered next to her. She was ashamed of how pathetic she sounded. "It's stupid…"

"No, it isn't. They're not going to touch you again, Angela. I'll see to it that they don't." Cam walked to the other side of the bed and caught her eyes. "I promise."

"Which ID project were they referring to?" Bren asked. "The one Booth just brought in Friday or the one we're still working on from before?"

Angela shrugged. "They were more specific about what they'd do to me than about which case they were talking about."

"We'll tell Booth. He'll put a unit on you."

Angela chuckled darkly. "Maybe that'll keep Jack from wanting to hire a bodyguard for me."

Cam smiled. "I wouldn't count on it. But realistically speaking, more protection might not be a bad idea if these people are as dangerous as they claim to be."

/to be continued/


	5. Chapter 5

"Seeley?"

"Yes, Camille?"

Cam watched him cross the living room to Brennan's couch, colapsing into the seat. "Don't you have a case you're supposed to be working on?"

"According to what Angela told you, whoever did this..." He shook his head and tightened his jaw perceptively. "My job is dangerous, I know that. I accept it. This is getting too dangerous. I've already endangered Temperance, almost got her killed... I never would have put _anyone_ at the Jeffersonian on any of these cases if I thought..."

"I know. If it's any comfort, I don't think Angela blames you for this."

"She should."

"It wasn't you who did it."

Booth jerked his head toward the hallway. Angela stood, balanced between the wall and Brennan, just within the room. She slowly maneuvered to the couch and eased herself down.

"Should she be up?" His eyes darted from Cam, who had risen as soon as Angela made an appearance in the room, to Bones. "You shouldn't be up," he said at last, resting his gaze finally on Angela's pale face.

She brushed off Cam and shrugged. "I don't want to be alone. And I've been laying down for most of the weekend anyway." She toyed with the hem of the tank top she had borrowed from Brennan. "So, you told Zack and Hodgins."

"I don't think you should have to worry about personal safety for a while. There should be a burly bodyguard posted at the front door pretty soon according to Hodgins." He smiled a little. "They're both worried," he added more soberly.

"I don't think they're in danger."

"Angela, they're not worried for themselves. They're worried about you. They wanted to come."

"No. I don't want them to see me like this... I didn't want _anyone_ to see me like this," she paused for a long drawn out moment and twisted the fabric of the hem arund her fingers tightly. "Not even Bren," she whispered finally.

Brennan patted her knee softly but remained silent.

Booth nodded. He'd heard that same panicked tone earlier in her apartment. "I suggested it would be better if they waited - Hodgins didn't take it well, but I do think he listened. But Angela, they don't care what you look like. They just want to see for themselves that you're alright."

She shifted uneasily on the couch, her expression contorted with a dozen unnamed emotions. "Not yet."

"I understand."

She let the weight of her full attention fall on him. "Do you?"

He nodded slowly, allowing her stare to rest solely on him.

They remained in the living room, silence prevailing, until Cam's concern over-rode even Angela's desire to remain. She was still dehydrated, exhausted, and in need of more rest and Cam's generosity faltered with Angela's obviously flagging strength. Brennan led her back to the bedroom and didn't return.

Once Angela and Brennan were gone, Cam turned back to Booth. "So what's so special about the cases we have that would justify the lengths these people have gone to in order to get us to drop the investigations?" Cam sifted thrugh the files she'd had delivered from her office and laid them out on the coffee table. "What could be so sensitive that someone would be willing to torture an innocent due to it?"

Booth rubbed at his face. "That's what doesn't make any sense. None of the remains I've brought you are recent. Bones estimates the most recent one to be from at least six years ago."

"I'm calling off any further investigations until we can be sure Angela's going to be safe... Which is exactly what they were trying to get us to do."

"I'm not willing to risk anything else happening."

"I agree," she replied slightly defensively. Cam never raised her eyes from the files but her voice dropped perceptively. "I'm not used to working with living patients, Seeley. It's a lot different if you don't have to worry about hurting the person your working on."

"Cam..." He shifted to rise from the couch.

"Don't." She held up a hand. "I know I hurt her, not as much as they did, but I hurt her nonetheless. And I know I didn't have a choice. It doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't make me... feel any better about having done it." Her mouth set into a hard line. "There was a reason I chose pathology. I don't thank you for dragging me into this."

"What was I supposed to do? She was refusing to go to the hospital. She needed medical help."

"She still does. Dehydration is still a very real threat. I wasn't joking about the juice earlier. She's going to have to drink a lot of it since she won't be getting fluids through an I.V." She caught his questioning glance. "I already said I don't like hurting her. Do you know how long it's been since I administered an I.V.? Even then I wasn't particularly good at it."

"I wouldn't have called you except she was so adamant about not going to the hospital. Why is that?"

Cam shrugged. "Probably something they said to her." Finally, she turned her attention from the files. "I'm glad you did call, Booth. It's just hard. Seeing Angela like this is hard enough but knowing exactly what must have occurred to cause the damage she sustained... that's even harder. I wish I didn't have to know."

He met her gaze for a long drawn out moment. "So, what do we have?" He lifted the file nearest him.

She shook her head, pulling her hair back from her face. "Nothing that points any fingers. They're just your average run of the mill skeletal remains. Nothing spectacular about them. They don't even appear to be homicide from what we've been able to tell about them. I was going to have Angela start on the sketches today..." She jerked her head up. "You came by to get Angela today."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"A new case came in Friday after I dropped off those remains with Bones. It wasn't mine but one of the agents involved asked if I couldn't coerce Angela to run a sketch on the skull on Monday."

"What's the case?"

Booth's eyes lit with acknowlegement. "Chinese mafia-style hit. We think the victim was a mule or considered to be a traitor. She was gutted and most of the flesh was removed from her body but the lab found evidence of possible opium ingestion."

"There's your case. Since when do they use mules for opium smuggling?"

"That's the million dollar question." He closed his eyes and leaned back again. "Which means that Angela was a target directly due to my association with the Jeffersonian."

Cam raised her brows. "It also means that the Chinese mafia has a mole in the FBI."

"That too."

/to be continued/


	6. Chapter 6

The room was dark but warm. The warmth was good but the dark had her heart pounding. She didn't like the fact that she couldn't see, regardless of the fact that she knew where she was. She was at Brennan's apartment, snuggled beneath her best friend's blankets. Still, she was afraid.

She could hear breathing, slow and rhythmic. Someone was in the room with her, probably sleeping, and she didn't want to disturb them but she really needed to see them and make sure it wasn't _them_. She tried to slide to the edge of the bed, her hand gingerly seeking out a light. The longer it took her to find one, the more frantic her movements. In the end, the pain surging through her body was too great to allow her to keep searching for a light.

In the dark silence, Angela lay still and struggled to remember anything that had been said during her captivity that might be even the least bit useful to Booth and his investigation. Try as she might, however, she could only remember the dark promissed of more torment to come should she say anything to anyone.

She was hurting. The pain helped ony to clear the men from her thoughts. She tried shifting positions only to have the pain intensify and she bit back the cry that rose in her throat. This wasn't good, the pain was increasing to a crescendo and she was unsure if she would be able to ride it out long enough for Brennan to wake on her own. But she was loathe to wake her friend, she sounded so peaceful.

Panting against the pain and nausea, she tried moving again. The crushing press she felt in her chest was unrelenting and her legs and feet radiated their own horrors. No matter what she did, it only made her hurt all the more.

"Oh, God!"

The cry itself was soft and muffled but it brought Brennan out of her slumber.

"Ange?"

A dim light flickered to life on the bedside table.

"Ange, what's wrong?"

She could feel beads of sweat dotting her skin and grimaced against the overwhelming nausea. She didn't want to throw up - the spams she fought already had her involuntarily doubled over.

"Angela, tell me what's wrong," Brennan pressed. She touched her arm but pulled back at Angela's low moan. "Cam!"

Cam was at Angela's side in record time but the pathologist's presence alone didn't remedy Angela's agony.

"Angela?" Cam knelt next to the bed, her fingers cool against the fevered skin of her patient's wrist. "What's hurting, Angela?" When the question garnered no response, she glanced at Brennan. "She needs to be in a hospital," she muttered, her anger at the entire situation compressed into those few words.

"Nauseous..." Angela ground out through gritted teeth.

"Damn," Cam muttered. She eyed the room. "Dr. Brennan, do you have anything..."

A large mixing bowl appeared in Cam's hand before she could complete the request.

"Hurts," Angela panted, "so much..."

"Broken ribs will do that," Cam agreed. She helped Angela scoot closer to the edge of the bed so that her head was hanging obver the edge, supported by Brennan.

What little juice they'd managed to coerce down her ended up in the bowl amid an anguished cry.

Brennan met Cam's gaze, her free hand combing through Angela's tangled hair.

"Angela," Cam kept her voice low. "I need to know exactly what they did to you."

"I... I don't remember... what... what they said." She hissed sharply as she tried to twist her body. "I've tried... but I just can't remember anything but..." She sucked in a jagged breath, unable to prevent a hiccuping sob from following.

"No offence to Seeley's detective skills, but _I_ don't care what they said. Their words aren't what's important right now." She looked to Brennan again. "I need you to tell me what they did to you. I need to know what kind of injuries I'm dealing with here." She watched Angela's face closely. "You know, you're the first patient I've had in years who can actually answer my questions."

Angela shook her head frantcally and tried to pull away from them both but stopped with the blazing stab of pain that accompanied her attempt.

"Ange, we can't help you without the facts," Brennan added when Cam just shook her head and pulled away from the bed. "You're getting worse and we're getting very worried that you need to be in a hospital." Brennan hoped her plea would get through Ange's fear.

"No, if I'm in the hospital, they'll know."

Brennan slid onto the bed, edging under Angela until she had her friend's head cradled in her lap. She trailed her fingers along Angela's hairline, avoiding the worst of the bruising. It wasn't an easy task, avoiding bruises. It seemed that Angela's head had been used as a punching bag.

"You didn't want to go to the hospital because you were afraid?" Brennan didn't stop Angela from turning her face away but wouldn't let her pull from her touch. "Am I hurting you? Is this okay?" She gently placed her hand against the top of Angela's head, her fingers resting lightly among the touseled locks.

"Yeah, that's okay. It's just -" she sniffed and groaned softly. "Everything else hurts so much..."

"I'm trying to get you something for the pain that's stronger than Tylenol, Angela. But when a pathologist writes a script for narcotics it raises a lot of red flags." Cam crossed to the door. "I'll see what kind of fires I can light under those pharmascists."

In the silence left by Cam's departure, Brennan sighed and let her eyes droop closed. She wasn't particularly tired but the stress of dealing with Angela's predicament was begining to drain her resources. She had no idea how to do this... nurturing thing and Angela wasn't in very good shape to assist her. She sighed again.

"I need your help, Ange. I don't know how to do this. I know it isn'f fair, but I need you to tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"This," Angela murmured, trying to speak without breathing too deeply. "This is good." She let the tears slide down her cheek to soak into her hair. "This is good. Just... don't go away. I can't take being alone, even if I'm not really alone..."

/to be continued/


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, my name still has some influence, maybe," Cam said as she walked back into the bedroom. "The prescription was accepted and Seeley said he'd get it up and bring it over as soon as it's ready. You know, I think he might have actually helped things along by pulling his gun on the pharmacist, but I can't be sure." She raised her brows and shrugged. Turning her head toward Angela who was still nestled in Brennan's lap, she toned down her voice. "But, unfortunately, I still need you to talk to me, Angela. Once Seeley gets here with the meds, you'll be out like a light which means I need you to talk now... even though you're hurting."

Angela kept her face averted but made no more attempts to try to flee Brennan's touch. Brennan, for her part, understood Cam's need for information but she ached for the agony the request was dragging Angela through. Not knowing what else to do, she remained where she was and gently combed her fingers through the lank waves of Angela's hair.

Cam settled onto the edge of the bed and stroked her hand across Angela's arm, being careful as her fingertips grazed the bruised skin. "It's hard, I know. But, Angela..."

"Stop, Cam. Just... stop." Angela pulled her arm from Cam's touch. "You _don't_ know, that's the problem. I understand that you just want to help, but it doesn't..." her words were breathy and rushed, as if she were afraid that she might not be able to finish what she was saying if she slowed her speach. "I'll tell you what I can, but I don't promise to give all the details."

"Alright, whenever you're ready." Unfazed by the retraction of Angela's arm from her touch, Cam nodded and waited. She would wait all day if need be. Truth be told, she would rather wait all day for Angela to be ready than hear the tale right away.

Angela drew in a careful, shuddering breath and closed her eyes against the tears. "Not all the details," she reiterated.

Cam bit her lip and nodded sharply. "Not all the details, but I do need enough information to be able to form an understanding of what occurred."

Without preamble, Angela began to talk. "I thought they were going to rape me at first, or kill me. That was before they started talking. But when I first found them waiting for me in my bedroom... Rape was the first thing I thought."

"That would be the first thing I would suspect if I found a couple of strange men waiting in my bedroom," Cam encouraged.

"I think it would have been better if they had." Angela ducked her chin and pressed her cheek against Brennan's leg. "They had a, one of those stun guns... I tried to run but I couldn't get away in time. When I woke up again, I was tied up and they'd already started... they had my bat, an wooden baseball bat left over from an old boyfriend who had this thing about batting cages... I kept it all these years because I thought I could always use it to brain anyone who broke into my place... I never thought it would be used against me."

"God, Bren, I tried to fight back. I kept thinking about your martial arts classes and how I should have been more concerned about learning how to protect myself."

Brennan wiped the back of her hand across her damp cheeks and shook her head. "You know this wasn't your fault. You of all people, know that there was nothing you could have done. Against a stun gun, the person with the stun gun always wins."

"You would have fought back," her tone sunk to misery as sobs shook her shoulders.

Brennan's eyes widened. "I would have done whatever it took to stay alive. Ange, you did everything right. You're still here, that's all that matters."

"You don't believe that, Bren."

"Yes, I do," she insisted incredulously. "I've been shot with a stun gun, remember. I couldn't fight back."

"But that stun gun was souped up..."

"Okay, enough with the self-loathing," Cam cut in. "Shame and depression are classic symptoms of a survivor of assault. What I still need to know is what it is that you survived."

"They hit me... a lot. Fists, feet, the bat... they didn't seem to care as long as I was hurting." She pressed her face harder against Brennan's thigh. "I... I begged them to stop. It hurt so much. They were there for so long and it just kept getting colder. They wouldn't let me sleep or sit down. They tied my hands together and my wrist was already hurting so much... I thought I'd pass out. And then..." she drug a long, slow breath in, fighting back the tears that rose in her eyes. "Then it just got worse."

A sound from the hallway brought Angela's telling to a grinding halt.

Cam rose and crossed to the door. "It's probably just Seeley with those meds," she said softly, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her.

"They had a piece of... some kind of leather strap. I'm kind of glad now I never got that tatoo on my back. It would be ruined now..." She fell silent for a long time. "Bren? Falaqa - I remember the term from an Amnesty International rally I went to in college. You know what it is, right?" Angela wouldn't face Brennan, refused to raise her gaze from the blanket edge gripped in her tense fingers.

"Yeah, Ange. I know what it is, so does Booth," Brennan whispered. "I saw Booth's X-rays after my refrigerator tried to blow him up. The bones in his feet show the same kind of damage." She thought about that day, about her own experience in terror shortly afterward. "I think it's safe to believe that, when he says that he understands... He actually does understand."

"Don't tell him."

"Ange... it's too late, I think he knew the moment we found you."

"But you don't need to say it, do you? Out loud? I mean, it's stupid, I know... But the fewer people who actually know the details, the happier I am. I don't think I could take the pity. Jack _can't_ know. It'd kill him..."

Brennan sighed and closed her eyes against the raging argument that was building in her head. The injuries Angela had alluded to were severe, Brennan wanted nothing more than to call an ambulance and let some faceless emergency room doctor take over. But Angela was so scared just talking to _her_ that she was relatively certain she'd only become worse if she were faced with an entire crowd of strangers.

"Hodgins is going to ask you about it, you know that," she gently insisted.

"But if I refuse to tell him, eventually he'll give up."

"Hodgins, give up? Yeah, right." Booth had appeared in the doorway. "He's practically beating down the door now. Your guardian angel, Cam, refused to let him in until you were okay with seeing him." He walked around the edge of the bed and tried to meet Angela's eyes but she wouldn't look up from the blanket. "He just wants to see that you're still breathing, Angie. That's all. He was going nuts at the Jeffersonian and I didn't really think it would be a good idea for him to go home. I brough him with me so he wouldn't break any more equipment."

"What do you mean, any more equipment?" Brennan asked, the phrase making her temporaily forget the current circumstances.

"You know that microscpe thingy that used to be on the edge of Angela's desk?" He waited for Brennan to nod. "Well, Cam's gonna have to order another one."

Brennan raised her brows. "He hasn't been in _my_ office has he?"

"Nah, the damage was mostly contained to his own work space, Angela's microscope was taken out by friendly fire." He waited for the question to form on Booth's lips beofre he continued. "Zack was actually trying to protect it from Hodgins when he accidentally knocked it over."

"I don't want to see him. Not yet."

"I did try telling him that but have you ever argued with Hodgins when he's determined to win, not just debate?"

"All the time," Angela muttered. "But you have to convince him to wait. Please."

Booth left the room again when Hodgins' voice became loud enough to be heard through the door and Brennan was able to return her attention to her friend. The feelings of inadequacy in her current situation had not lessened, if anything, they'd worsened since hearing the basic breakdown of Angela's weekend activities. She had almost called Angela on Friday night... almost stopped by her apartment to invite her to breakfast Saturday morning. What had changed her mind? She couldn't remember.

She didn't like the pointlessness of her train of thoughts but found herself helpless to stop it.

"I'm so sorry, Angela."

/to be continued/


	8. Chapter 8

Booth and Hodgins were both sitting in her living room when Brennan finally felt assured enough that the drugs Cam had given Angela would keep her asleep for a while. She had half-hoped that Hodgins would already be gone but he looked as if he would be there for a while – along with the rest of them and despite Angela's refusal to see him. She'd have to remember to tell Angela he was there before she decided to wander out of the bedroom again.

"What's wrong?" Hodgins was on his feet a moment after she entered the room.

"Nothing's wrong. She's sleeping."

"Should you leave her alone? What if she wakes up?"

Brennan sighed. "Cam's sitting with her but I don't think she'll wake up any time soon. She's going to be okay, Hodgins. She just – she needs to rest. That's what she's doing now, resting."

Booth studied her as she sunk into a chair. "You should take some of that advice yourself, Bones. You look like hell."

"Thanks." She rubbed her face with her hands. "How's the investigation going?"

"I don't know. I'm not on it."

Indignation flared. "Why not?" she demanded, temporarily forgetting her exhaustion.

"Too close to the case. Cullen's got IA on it but he wanted me to stay clear of the investigation."

"But – when I was accused of murder you didn't let them take you off the case, when Angela's boyfriend was murdered you stayed on the case. But now that Angela's been nearly beaten to death…"

"It's an Internal Affairs issue, Temperance. Even if it were _you_ in that bed, I'd be off the case." His expression hardened under the pressure of her accusation. "I would do _anything_ to protect Angela. Why do you think I'm here, sitting in your living room? No one is going to get the chance to touch her again. I'm not leaving until the investigation is resolved."

"And if it never is?" Brennan demanded.

"Does Angie have a guest room?" He glared at her before turning his sttention to the other person in the room. "You're awful quiet, Hodgins. No left wing conspiracy theories to expound on?"

Jack glowered but remained silent.

"Yeah," Booth continued angrily. "Nothing to say when the victim is Angela. You sure don't mind running your mouth when I'm the one laid up, or when it's a soldier lying dead…"

"Enough!" Cam strode into the room, her face fiercely controlled. "Keep your voice down, Seeley. This is hard enough with Angela asleep. If you wake her up with your yelling, you'll have more than just Hodgins' delusional paranoia to deal with. If she wakes up, I'll let you be the one to sit with her - guilt and all."

"Sorry."

She pinned them all with a look before returning to the bedroom.

"We really shouldn't be sniping at one another. It isn't helping Angela." Brennan stared at the far wall, she had slumped forward in the chair with her elbows resting on her knees, her hands dangling. "Angela..." She shook her head. "I don't do emotions. Not like this."

"Did Angela tell you what happened?"

Brennan nodded slowly. "She told us as much as she's comfortable saying right now - more than she was comfortable telling, actually. She might talk more later, I don't know." She met Booth's questioning gaze. "I can't tell you, you know I can't repeat what she said to me in confidence. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair to Angela... and she's had enough unfairness. She trusts me to keep what she said private. I won't break her trust in me."

"You're preaching to the choir, Bones."

"I don't-"

"I know," Booth sighed, "I'm just saying that I do understand. I'm on your side - and Angela's."

"You understand better than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was the first thing Hodgins had said since her initial entry into the room.

"It's nothing," she muttered. She slowly pushed herself to her feet. "I'd better get back in there before... I don't want Angela to wake up with me not there."

"You need to get some sleep, Temperance." Worry flavored Booth's words.

"I will, I know... I took a nap earlier."

Booth rose and gently placed a hand on her arm in a vague gesture to waylay her. "Dozing in a chair at Angela's bedside doesn't count as sleep. Why don't you lie down for a while. Cam will get you if she wakes up."

"No, I'm fine. I want to sit with her." She shrugged off his touch with a glare. "She needs me, Booth."

"You won't do her any good if you're too exhausted to see straight."

"There's nothing wrong with my vision." She turned on her heel and fled before Booth tried to touch her again and she was forced to doing him harm. She shut the bedroom door solidly behind her and leaned back against it with her eyes closed.

"That bad out there, is it?"

She had forgotten about Cam. Brennan was begining to yearn for an empty apartment and the solitude and peace she so often took for granted. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw Cam watching her from Angela's side. "I think I'm just tired."

"You should be." Cam brushed her fingers across Angela's forehead, smoothing the hair out of her eyes. "Her meds are there, on the table. She gets two tablets every six hours... which puts her next dose in just about five hours. If she doesn't wake up, let her sleep as long as she's able. No need to rouse her and remind her body that it's supposed to be hurting." She stood up and slid her hands into her pockets. "I'd diagnose a good night's sleep for you too, if I thought you'd listen. Don't hesitate to call me if her condition worsens or if she doesn't seem to be responding to the meds. I mean that - don't hesitate. I'll be back in a few hours to look in on her."

Brennan nodded and moved away from the door so that Cam could leave. "Thank you."

Cam cocked her head. "For what?"

Brennan's eyes sought out her friend who slept in her bed. "For taking care of Angela."

Cam's hand rested on the doorknob, her fingers light against the metal. She dropped her head before lifting her eyes to Brennan's. "I don't need thanks. I wouldn't trust anyone else to treat her, not as she is now. As much as it hurts to see her like this, I wouldn't risk her health to possibly inferior care." Cam purced her lips and forced a small smile. "Let me see what I can do about convincing Dr. Hodgins to go home."

"Good luck."

"I'll do my best but I make no promisses."

Brennan was relieved when Cam left the room. She could hear the far-away muffled voices from the living room but they were easy to ignore. Angela's slow, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room, it was peaceful, soothing, hypnotic even.

She kicked her shoes off and dropped them in the closet. Pajamas were easy to come by from the dresser and she quickly changed clothes. The bed was plenty big enough for two, especially with Angela solidly nestled on one side. Just a few hours' rest and she'd reclaim her chair. She lay down next to Angela, slowly easing onto the matress so as not to disturb her. With a light blanket pulled up across her shoulders, she studies Angela's sleeping face for a long minute.

"It's going to be okay, Angela," she whispered. "I promise. I'll make it okay."

It was a long time later that the bedroom door slowly swung open. Booth peeked around the edge and smiled at the sight of Angela and Brennan both dead to the world. Brennan's hand resting lightly on Angela's arm.

"Whoever did this..." Hodgins' voice was harsh, "whoever did this to her..."

"Yeah," Booth agreed in a whisper so as not to wake the sleeping women. "I agree. When we find out - whoever did this to her, they're going to die. Slowly, painfully, and very creatively."

/to be continued/


	9. Chapter 9

"What in the hell is that about?"

Booth opened Brennan's front door wider, allowing Sully to passing into the apartment. He nodded to the large man who stood guard in the hallway before closing the door again and throwing the deadlock.

"Sully."

"You want to explain? I heard there was an attack on someone from the Jeffersonian and Brennan won't answer her cell phone."

"Bones is alright. She's sleeping." He followed Sully through to the living room. "Bones wasn't the one who was attacked."

"Then who?"

"It was Angela."

"Montenegro? The artist?" Sully turned a confused look to Booth. "Why would someone attack her?"

"It's a long story."

"And an interesting one I'd bet, considering the bodyguards in the hallway and the way internal affairs is crawling all over the bureau." He sat down across from Hodgins. "She okay?"

"She will be – eventually." He glanced at Jack on the couch. The entomologist had fallen asleep some time after Cam had left for the evening. Booth was surprised that Sully's entrance hadn't roused him.

"I've got all night." Sully stacked his hands behind his head and leaned back.

oOo

There was a weight against her arm. It was the first clear thought to cross her consciousness upon waking. The second was that whatever medicine it was that Cam had given her hadn't been nearly strong enough and hadn't lasted long enough by half. In truth, she felt worse than she had when Booth had carried her out of her apartment.

She tried to move the arm that wasn't weighted down but the attempt failed miserably with shooting pains reverberating through her body. Without thought, she pulled herself into a fetal position only to learn too late that the movement brought more pain – she was beyond caring. Pain was the only concept her brain was capable of mastering. A low keening sob filled her ears as she desperately sought some control over her body.

"Angela? Angela."

She could hear voices but the keening sound muffled all other sounds enough that she couldn't recognize the voices or place the words they uttered.

"Ange."

Hands grabbed at her and she panicked, bucking against those who would subdue her. The more the hands touched her, the harder she fought. Fear overrode even her pain, as great as it was.

"Angela!"

Recognition finally cut through the haze of pain and terror and Angela opened her eyes to find Brennan kneeling next to her on the bed. The keening sound too made sense and she clamped her mouth shut on the sob.

"Oh God. I'm sorry…"

Brennan shook her head and relaxed her grip on Angela's shoulders. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for." She leaned across to the table where Cam had left the pain medication. "Here," she said as she handed two pills to her along with a cup of juice. "It's the pain, Angela. This will help."

The expression on her friend's face was clear. What was bothering her was not mere pain and the pills would do nothing to help her forget that.

Brennan watched as she swallowed the pills and emptied the cup. She settled back down on the bed, her gaze unwavering from Angela who had turned away from her. She waited for several quiet minutes, debating whether she should voice the thoughts dancing through her brain.

"Angela?"

"Yeah?" Angela turned back to face Brennan. She still hurt but the medicine had begun to take the edge off the worst of it and despite her reaction upon waking, Brennan's close presence added to her peace of mind significantly.

"Do you think you'd like to talk to someone about this? I don't put a lot of faith in psychology but-"

"Bren, you don't put _any_ faith in psychology."

"I know, but I also know that _you_ do."

"Sometimes," she admitted. "I don't know. Right now I think I just want to try to forget it ever happened."

"Considering the extent of your injuries, I don't think that's possible, Ange."

"Yeah. But it doesn't mean I wouldn't like it to be." She fell silent again and closed her eyes.

Brennan stayed where she was, hoping her presence was not adding to Angela's difficulties. Silence seemed to be what she wanted most and Brennan was determined to see that she got as much of it as she needed.

"I don't know how you did it, Bren. How did you do it?"

She'd been quiet for so long and Brennan was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she was startled when Angela spoke. "How I did what?"

"I was so scared. I was certain they were going to kill me. But what they were doing hurt so much that I thought that maybe being killed wouldn't be such a bad idea. But I kept remembering what you said about when you were in El Salvador… I tried to convince myself that you had survived that, so I could survive this. But I think I was just kidding myself."

"Angela." Brennan reached out and touched her cheek when Angela tried to turn away again, cupping her face gently in her hand. "First of all, you _did_ survive. You're here now, in my apartment, because you survived. And second…" Bren blinked away the tears that clouded her vision, "Second, physical torture is something I've _never_ had to try to survive. I can't even imagine trying to do what you're doing. You're doing great, Angela. You're going to recover. There are a lot of people who want to help you." Brennan refused to allow her to pull away from her touch, she could only hope she wasn't hurting her more by adding to the pressure on her cheek. "Cam's coming back to check on you soon. I'm not going anywhere. Hodgins and Booth are both refusing to leave until we know you're safe."

"What if that never happens? If I'm never safe?" Her voice was choked with emotion and broke with the questions.

Brennan allowed herself to grin a little. "Booth's ready to move into your guest room to make sure you'll be safe."

"But I don't have a guest room."

"I know. If it comes to it, I think he'll camp out on your couch or move you to his place. He's very worried about you, Ange. We all are. I can't even get Hodgins to leave and he knows you don't want him to see you." She shook her head quickly at the tears that sprung to Angela's eyes. "He's okay with it, he doesn't understand but he won't pressure you. He just wants to be close, even if he can't see you."

"Why are you still here, Brennan?"

"What?" The question caught her off guard. "I don't understand."

A pained expression clouded Angela's face and darkened her eyes. "You should be at work. What about all those unidentified remains in limbo?"

"I took a few of my vacation days. Besides, Cam agreed that I would be able to do more good here than at the Jeffersonian. Even if she hadn't agreed... Do you really think I could go to work knowing I could be here with you instead? Once you start feeling better, we'll talk about it, but until then..." Brennan dropped her eyes to Angela's shoulder and the bruise that had only just begun to heal to yellow/green around the edges. "You're my best friend, Angela. I'm not going to leave you alone. I may not be very good at this sort of thing, but I'm not going to leave you."

Angela seemed to absorb what Brennan said, quietly watching the shadows dance in the corners of the room. "You're a lot better at ths than you think."

"What?"

"Think about it. When I canned you about Kirk having gone missing, you were on the next flight out. I knew that if I called you yesterday - I knew you'd come even if you were busy, even if Booth had drug you off on a case or you were elbow deep in WWII skeletons."

"How did you know?"

Angela shrugged slightly and grimaced again the pain. "Because that's who you are, Bren.

Brennan watched as Angela's eyes slowly fell shut and kept watching long after she had drifted to sleep. She closed her own eyes and pressed her head heavily into the pillow.

"Bones!"

It was a whisper but only barely and she glared toward the door. If Booth woke Angela, he would be able to learn first-hand just how talented she was in learning her martial arts techniques.

He waved her over, ignoring the glare. "Come here."

With one last heated glare, she double checked to be certain Angela seemed to be resting peacefully before she slid off the bed. "What do you want?" she kept her voice down even in the hallway.

"Cullen sent an update. Thought you'd be interested."

"Why's Cullen involved?"

Booth didn't meet her gaze. "Let's just say that Angela holds a special place with Cullen ever since she gave Amy the Louvre."

_/to be continued/_


	10. Chapter 10

"This apartment is becoming very crowded," Cam commented as she entered Brennan's bedroom.

"It is? Who's here now?" Brennan sat up but made no move to rise from the bed. The grip Angela had on her hand, even in sleep, would have prevented her from doing so even had she considered trying.

"Sully and Zack, not to mention the two Neanderthals I had to identify myself to before I could even come in."

"Hodgins actually hired body guards?" Brennan asked. She knew he would consider it, would talk about doing it, but she hadn't expected him to actually go through with the idea.

"At least two." Cam smiled sadly down at Angela who had managed to remain asleep during her entrance and their conversation. "How's she doing?"

Brennan shrugged. "The medicine is letting her sleep but I don't know how much rest she's getting. I think she would have let go of my hand if she were getting any real rest."

"She's still scared, but at least she is sleeping. That's good. Is she willing to let us get her to a hospital yet?"

"I haven't actually asked her that, but…" she shook her head, "I don't think so. Cam – I know you're uncomfortable with this."

"As are you."

"I'm not uncomfortable with having you treat her," Brennan argued.

"Not at all what I meant," Cam replied, unfazed by Brennan's quick response. She was quiet while she checked Angela's pulse. "We need to convince her to at least let us take her into the Jeffersonian for X-rays. I've spent the last two hours trying to get my hands on a mobile radiology machine but I can't get one lent to me without a detailed explanation of why I need it. I can't know the true extent of some of her injuries without X-rays. There are a few other tests I'd like to run as well." She frowned. "When I was treating her initially, I found what appear to be electrical burns. I need the tests to determine exactly what I'm trying to treat."

"They electrocuted her?" Brennan's eyes darted back to Angela. "She never said anything about that."

Cam bit her lip and focused her attention on Brennan. "You know as well as I do that it's a classic torture technique and I wish I could be more surprised. She's been severely traumatized, far beyond anything she actually wants to recount to us – beyond what anyone would want to recount. I wouldn't be surprised to learn they did a lot more to her than we'll ever hear. But there are some things that can't be hidden by silence."

Brennan watch the even rise and fall of Angela's chest. "Cullen sent a report earlier."

"What did it say?"

"I don't know. I didn't want Angela to over hear it and I didn't want to leave her alone. The only other person here was Hodgins and Angela doesn't want him seeing her." Brennan looked lost.

"Well, I'm here now." Cam reached over and gently extracted Brennan's hand from Angela's grasp only to have the fingers close around her own. "And it looks like I can take your place for a little while, at least long enough for you to take a shower and talk to Seeley."

Brennan looked less than convinced but Cam spoke up before she could argue. "Hey, it's okay to take care of yourself. Angela won't even know that you're not here." She stretched out her arm and managed to maneuver around the bed, falling rather ungracefully to the mattress but maintaining her grip on Angela's hand. Angela shifted in her sleep but did not wake. "If you don't get cleaned up and looking rested soon she's going to start worrying about you and I don't think you really want to add to her worries. Go see what that report says. Eat something. Who knows, maybe Dr. Hodgins can call off the personal security."

Brennan cast one last glance at Angela. She was solidly asleep, her eyes darting beneath her eyelids. "She's dreaming."

"Let's just hope she's dreaming about Dr. Hodgins and not about the men who did this to her."

**oOo**

"What did Cullen's report say?"

"Bones, I thought you were resting."

She dabbed at the ends of her hair with the towel she'd draped across her shoulders. "I was. Then I took a shower." She met Hodgins' eyes. "Angela's still asleep."

Booth rose but she didn't sit down. Instead, she walked across the room to the windows and watch the snow continue to fall.

"How is Angela?"

She turned to look at Zack. He looked worried and far younger than usual. She shrugged. "Cam says she'll be okay."

"Unfortunately, the report doesn't say much," Booth said softly. "Internal Affairs is still looking into the mole issue and Cullen is hesitant to put any more agents into protecting Angela because we still don't know who can be trusted. Right now, she's got me and Sully."

"So the report is just a notification that Angela is in just as much danger as she was before?"

"Maybe more." A haggard shadow fell over his expression. "Cullen's worried about her. He suggested it might not be a bad idea if she disappeared for a while until the mole is found."

"Run away." Brennan turned the words over in her head. Angela might not be adverse to fleeing. She'd mentioned similar thoughts before about various other cases, but she was in no shape to leave now. She glanced around her living room. Cam was right, it was getting crowded.

"Okay." Cam appeared in the doorway. "I need Doctors Hodgins and Addy to leave."

"What?" Hodgins roused when he heard his name.

"Why?" Zack looked away from his perusal of Brennan's CD collection.

Cam's face was unreadable. "Go home. Take a shower. Get something to eat. I don't care what you do but I need you to do it someplace else for the next hour or two."

Booth had already begun herding them toward the door, not understanding Cam's demand but knowing it must involve Angela in some way. He glanced at Sully and wondered why Cam hadn't included him.

"I'm coming back," Jack insisted once he had been more or less shoved out into the hall.

"That's fine," Cam replied. "Alright," she began once the door was closed on the two and their unanswered questions, "Angela's awake and has agreed to let us take her to the Jeffersonian for some testing. I'd rather get an ambulance here to transport her, but I'm afraid that if I press for one, she'll refuse to budge again. So, I need Seeley and Sully to help us get her downstairs."

**oOo**

Sully followed Booth into the bedroom and drew to a standstill just inside the door. The room was dim and the shadows thick but a stream of light from the opened door fell across Angela's face. To say she looked bad would be the understatement of the century.

"Hey, Ange," Booth said in greeting. He took her hand in his as she lifted it from the bed. "You know, I think you're looking better."

Sully jerked his head to observe Booth. It wasn't just an empty comment, the man actually meant that she did indeed look better. How she could have looked worse, Sully had no desire to know.

"I don't feel better," she murmured hoarsely. "I think I feel worse."

"Which is why a trip to the lab is in order."

"I don't feel that much worse," she whispered with a half smile. "Just don't let Cam get me on her autopsy table and I'll go willingly."

He smiled at her. "It's a deal."

/to be continued/


	11. Chapter 11

They had vacated the bedroom to allow Cam and Brennan to help Angela dress more appropriately for the winter weather outside. Sully and Booth returned to the living room to sit in silence and wait for the all clear.

"She looks better?" Sully finally asked, his incredulity clear.

"Yeah, she does." Booth nodded. "A lot."

Sully dropped his eyes to the carpet. "That's hard to believe."

"It wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done, seeing her before," he admitted. "Bringing her here instead of to a hospital was even harder."

"Why did you do it then?"

"When you have a woman in your arms who's that injured, who's been _that_ tormented, and she's demanding that you _not_ take her to a hospital… you do whatever you can to appease her. She was terrified of her attackers finding out where she was." He raised his hands to his face. "Bringing her here and calling Cam was the next best thing."

"She's ready."

Booth rose at Cam's entrance. Brennan followed Camille from the bedroom, allowing Booth to pass her unimpeded.

"You want me to…?"

"No," Booth answered quietly with a glance at Sully to acknowledge his offer of help. "I carried her in here, I'll be fine." He strode out of the room, leaving Sully, Brennan and Cam to work out the details of their little road trip.

Angela was sitting up on the edge of the bed and dressed in some of Brennan's warmer clothes when he entered the room. She glanced up at his appearance. "Hey."

"Hey." He slowed his pace and eased down next to her to sit on the bed in the half-light of the dimmed lamp. "You up to this?"

"No," she replied with a definite shake of her head. "No, I'm not. But I don't think I really have a choice if I want Cam to be able to help me."

"And you do want Cam's help?"

"Not really." She smiled slightly. "But I don't think I have a choice in that either. If I wanted anyone to help, I guess Cam's the one I would pick. Of course, Cam's a pathologist and I'm not dead…"

Booth grinned. "She pointed that out to me herself." He let the silence fall gently around them and watched the snow drift against the glass of the window that was only partly covered by the curtains.

Angela shifted anxiously. "I guess they're ready, huh?"

"Are _you_?" He turned to face her better. "They can wait. Zack and Hodgins are gone. It's just Brennan, Cam and Sully out there right now and they can wait until you're ready. We've got all the time you need."

"I'm scared."

He nodded. "Sully and I, we're not going to let anyone near you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know you'd try, just like Jack would try by hiring personal security guards." She shrugged and shuddered. "But I'm still scared."

"We'll do better than try, but you'll still be afraid for a while. It _will_ get better."

"You promise?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I promise."

"Maybe when we get back, maybe you could call Jack and tell him I'd like to see him?"

Booth shifted to ease Angela into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest.

"Yeah. He'd like that."

**oOo**

The trip to the cars was slow but uneventful and Booth settled Angela into Cam's backseat next to Brennan, taking the passenger's seat for himself. He nodded to Sully whose vehicle had appeared behind them in the drive.

Cam maneuvered through the afternoon traffic, listening with half an ear to the conversation taking place behind her.

"I think I'm ready to see Hodgins," Angela murmured softly.

"Okay," Brennan responded. She was seated so that Angela could lean against her more securely and she could only see part of her friend's face to gage her expression. "You want me to call him when we're done?"

"No, I already told Booth. He'll take care of it."

"Alright."

Angela slid further against Brennan and sighed. "I just wanted to warn you that he'll probably never leave your apartment once we get back."

"That's okay." She only had enough time to smile before Cam's startled exclamation drug her attention to the road outside the car.

Brennan didn't have enough time to evaluate the situation before the dark SUV sideswiped them. There was barely enough time for her to tighten her arms around Angela before the jolt sent them both to the floorboard. The world spun crazily around them and Brennan fought to keep her weight off of Angela for fear of hurting her even more. But her head made contact with something hard and unyielding and worrying about crushing Angela ceased to matter any more.

Angela had no idea what had happened to send her world into a tailspin. All she knew was that there was a lot of noise, added pain, and heat. Heat was not good, not good at all. She fought against the pain in her head to open her eyes.

All she could see at first was Brennan's shirt, but once she was able to find some semblance of order to her vision, she was able to make out the interior of Cam's car. The windows on the driver's side were broken and the fractured glass covered the interior of the vehicle and the doors were surely crushed from the bowing evident on the inside. It was getting smoky and her vision was hazy but she could hear Booth's voice although she couldn't quitre make out his words. Brennan still hadn't moved…

Frantically she searched for her best-friend's face. The heat was getting worse, the smoke was thickening, and Angela's panic grew with it. She couldn't move enough to shift Brennan's weight off her.

"Out of the car!" She could hear Sully shouting, banging on the undamaged side of the car. "Booth, Tempe!"

With more coordination that she thought possible, she managed to raise her hand enough to unlock the rear door. Sully would have to do the rest, she decided as the edges of her vision darkened and she allowed herself to slip sideways into oblivion.

It felt as if she had only just closed her eyes, but what met her vision belied that notion. She wasn't in Cam's car any more, instead she was sitting on the sidewalk, propped against an icy wall. She could feel the slushy dampness of the snow seeping through Brennan's borrowed sweater and jeans and she shivered in reaction. The socks that covered her feet were already soaked through, they had not forseen a greatneed for shoes since Cam had insisted she not walk. She didn't want to be cold again. She had been too cold for too long already.

Her vision was a little fuzzy but she could make out recognizable shapes: Sully, Brennan, Cam... Booth was there too but they all seemed very far away. The snow on the sidewalk was blotched red and Cam's car had definitely seen better days, especially if the burning wreckage was to be considered. Brennan and Cam looked hurt and Angela tried to sort through how they had all ended up on the sidewalk.

They had been going to the Jeffersonian for tests, Cam had been driving. She'd been talking to Brennan when something... something had rammed the car. No, some_one_ had rammed the car. Intentionally.

She frantically searched the faces of the people who had stopped to render aid. Although she had been pulled from the wreckage, her injuries were insignificant in the face of the others who had been in the car and all attention had turned from her. Which meant, it would be a lot easier for someone to slip away with her and no one would be the wiser.

Desperation brough her to her feet and she continued to search each face, frantic to assure herself that the men who had broached her apartment weren't there. But there were so many faces that she couldn't be certain. She saw Brennan try to sit up and caught her eye as she slowly backed away from the scene, sliding slightly on the icy concrete. She watched her friend try to reach out to her but Angela's fear spiked regardless. She had to get away. She had to find someplace safe.

They couldn't help her.

**oOo**

"Angela..." Brennan's throat felt choked and she couldn't make her hands work well enough to make Sully to back off and let her stand up. She watched her friend slowly back along the sidewalk until she disappeared into an alley. "Angela."

"She's fine, Tempe. Angela was the least hurt of all of you. Come on, you need to let us-"

"No!" She pushed Sully away with all the force she could muster. Her head ached and she knew she had sustained a concussion in the wreck but needed to get to her feet. She needed to go after Angela before she hurt herself, or worse. "Angela's gone."

"What? No, she's... oh my God." Sully had spun toward the place he had last seen Angela. Temperance was right, she was gone.

"She left. We have to find her... bring her back before..." Determination might have brought Brennan to her feet but it did nothing to clear the pain and vertigo. She swayed and felt Sully's hands steady her.

"You're not going anywhere.'

"I have to. You didn't see her face, Sully. She's terrified."

Booth forced his way through the press of good samaritans to stand next to them. "What's going on?" His gaze rested on Sully.

"Temperance needs medical help but she's refusing to listen to reason."

"Booth, you need to get Angela," Brennan grabbed hold of his arm, hoping he would take the action for high emotion rather than the dizzy weakness it truly was.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You, Cam and Angela get a trip to the ER in style. Or atleast in the back of an ambulance."

"But she's gone."

Booth glanced around. "What? Where?"

"Down the alley."' She lifted her arm to indicate the direction her friend had fled. "I'm going with you," she insisted, taking a wobbly step forward.

"Oh no, you're not. You're going to go get yourself checked out and I'm going to find the vanishing artist before she gets into some real trouble."

"But..."

"But nothing. I don't need to have to worry about two of you, and Cam's going to want some answers when she comes to." He shoved her toward Sully. "I don't have the time to argue with you about this, Bones."

He was gone before Brennan could voice another argument and she would have followed him had Sully been less inclined to prevent it from happening. "I don't like being told what I can and can't do," she muttered hotly.

"Yeah, I know."

_/to be continued/_


	12. Chapter 12

The snow was deeper in the alley than it had been on the sidewalk thanks to the shopkeepers and their brooms - less slush and more ice, but she didn't care. Her fear had shoved aside even her desperation to be warm again. Her toes weren't so cold anymore anyway, a bone deep numbness had begun to creep up her legs as she stumbled further into the alley.

She needed to get away before they could find her. She didn't know that they were there but she couldn't take the chance that she had simply missed seeing them. She knew she wouldn't be able to deal with another bought of captivity, no matter how well Brennan thought she was coping now. Especially not if they lived up to the dark promises she hadn't even been able to bring herself to mention to her best friend.

The alley split after several yards and she could see another street appear in the distance. She forced herself to keep moving forward despite the thickening snowfall only slightly lessened by the buildings on either side of her. She could only hope that the heavy snow would obscure her trail.

Several minutes later, she was on the sidewalk again but no crowds were in sight and no smoldering cars. Trying to ignore that she was severely underdressed for the weather, she turned and started walking, no destination in mind and nothing to rely on besides her own ability to stay on her feet. She ignored the odd glances her fellow pedestrians cast her way. It was likely they took her for one of the homeless.

That was great, just great. On the other hand, the men looking for her would not be looking for a vagrant so the assumption might work to her benefit.

If she just kept walking, everything would be alright.

**oOo**

Where in the hell did she go?

Booth was able to track her path right up until the snow gave way to hard ice and then – nothing. Plus the damned alley split in two directions just after he lost her footprints. He might as well toss a coin to figure out which way she went, there were no people in either direction.

He struck out in one direction, heedless to the fact that he should probably return and at least let the rest of their group know what was happened. With any luck, he'd catch up with Angela before he had to admit he had lost her.

He emerged onto the street and searched the crowd. There was no one who looked even slightly like Angela in sight. She couldn't have possibly traveled far, not with her injuries, no matter how upset or disoriented she might have become due to the accident.

He swore softly. He had been more interested in making sure all of them were out of the car and once that had been assured, Cam's lack of consciousness had taken up most of his immediate concern. He hadn't even given Angela a second thought. Damn it… Why hadn't he made sure she was okay? He knew she was already in a bad state of mind from the assault, add a collision by a hit and run driver to the mix and what do you get but a completely terrified woman who was wandering around DC in what was looking more and more like a blizzard with no shoes and no coat.

He ducked back into the alley, trying the second possible route with no more success. What was worse, the light was rapidly fading with the onset of evening. They had to locate her before the temperature dropped too much lower. As it was, frostbite had to be imminent.

With no more leads than the two possible outlets of the alley, he returned to the scene of the wreck. An ambulance had arrived and Cam, bleary-eyed but awake, had been loaded onto a stretcher. He couldn't face them – not Cam and definitely not Bones. He was supposed to find Angela and bring her back, not return empty-handed.

He pulled aside one of the Metro officers who had arrived in his absence.

"You need to put out an APB on a woman, approximately thirty years old, 5'8", 130 pounds, brown hair and eyes, wearing a sweater, jeans and socks – no shoes, no coat. Possibly disoriented, definitely traumatized."

The young officer eyed him questioningly. "Does this woman have a name?"

"Angela Montenegro. But I need you to keep this a quiet as possible."

The young man narrowed his eyes. "The point of an APB is that it isn't quiet."

"I know, but Ms. Montenegro is under FBI protection. I need you to find her without alerting the whole city that she's missing."

"How did the FBI lose her?"

Booth managed, just barely, to keep his hand away from his gun. Shooting the guy was all too tempting but would not help their situation. "Just get on your radio and make sure someone finds her before she's found by the people she's being protected from."

He snagged Sully from Brennan's side and pulled him out of her hearing range. "I can't find Angela. If she went down the alley Bones indicated, then she's disappeared."

"She's not going to last long in this," Sully said, his expression darkening as he glanced at the thick snow.

"Yeah, that thought had crossed my mind."

"I'll get my car and start looking, but I don't know how much good it'll do."

Booth glanced at Brennan and Cam who had both been situated in the ambulance. "It's better than standing around here waiting for her to freeze to death. I'll call Cullen, maybe he's got a better idea of who can and can't be trusted to help look for her."

**oOo**

The cold was getting worse. To be honest, she hadn't really thought anything could be colder than lying tied up in her apartment with no heat, but this was definitely worse. She had no cell phone, no money on her, no identification of any kind. If she kept walking, she'd eventually freeze to the sidewalk, at least the socks on her feet would. Even as panicked as her thoughts were, she knew that much.

The Jeffersonian didn't seem like a great place to go, especially without her key card to get into the building. Besides, her captors knew she worked there. If they were still out there looking for her, it would be foolish to flee anywhere they knew about. Her own home was out for obvious reasons, but it was tempting since that's where she imagined her purse had been left. She wouldn't be able to get into Brennan's apartment…

Cam had sent Hodgins home… If she could get a cab to stop, maybe Jack would be home. He still owed her for the crutches, maybe he'd be willing to lend her enough cash to pay for a cab ride. She kept walking but slowed and chewed on her bottom lip in thought. She had to get out of the weather, Jack was her only option, the one bright light in a sea of despair.

A taxi pulled up to the curb faster than she had expected once she had finally decided to try her luck at waving one down. The driver rolled the window down and looked her up and down.

"You okay, honey?"

The woman behind the wheel meet her eyes with concern rather than the disdain she had been trying to prepare for. Angela wavered for a moment. "I need a ride, my friend will be able to cover the cost, I… I," she looked down toward her frozen toes, "I don't have any money with me."

The driver leaned out the window and glanced down at Angela's feet. "You're gonna turn into a popsicle in this, honey. Get in. I'll get you where you need to be."

Angela sucked in a deep breath, she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge her pain since leaving the wreck, but it was fast becoming too much to bear. With what fleeting strength remained, she pulled on the door handle and slid into the taxi but she couldn't manage to close the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't you worry, I'll get it." The driver hurried out of the car and shut the door solidly, allowing the vehicle to fill with the heavy, hot air from the heater. "Are you sure you don't need a ride to the hospital? You don't look good."

"No, I'm alright." Angela gave the woman Jack's address, ignoring the low whistle that followed.

"I know that part of town, don't take many folks there, but I know it well enough."

Angela just nodded and closed her eyes. She was so tired…

**oOo**

The house was too quiet. Too big, too quiet, too far from Brennan's apartment. Too far from Angela.

He'd dropped Zack off at the garage, driving up to the house slowly to drag out the process as long as possible. He figured an hour would be good enough, then he'd return to the apartment. He'd camp out on Brennan's doorstep if he had to.

A shower had taken all of five minutes. Food was out of the question. Pacing seemed the best bet.

He walked from room to room, not bothering to turn on any lights, avoiding the few rooms Angela had spent any time in… that still left plenty of space to pace. The sounds of his footfalls met his ears hollowly.

He couldn't think, couldn't concentrate on anything. No conspiracy theories, no government cover-ups, not even slime and bugs, just Angela. Not being able to be with her was worse than anything he could imagine.

The sound of the doorbell startled him enough that he stormed through the house to the front door, a long list of threats ready for Zack or the local Bible-beaters who had dared show up on his doorstep.

The woman standing on his stoop was no Bible-thumper and she definitely wasn't Zack. "You live here?"

"You're the one on my door step, what do you think?"

She shook her head. "Well, then you're the one the lady mentioned."

"What lady? Look, whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested." He moved to shut the door but was prevented from doing so by the stranger's hand.

"I picked up this lady wandering around downtown, this is the address she gave me. Said something about you owing her for stolen crutches? I just need to know if you really do know her, otherwise, I'm taking her to the hospital. The girl is in bad shape." The woman leveled her eyes at him and tapped her foot expectantly.

"Angela's here?"

"Can't say for sure. She didn't give me a name, and let me tell you, my dispatcher is sure gonna read me the riot act for that little slip. 'Course I didn't run the meter either, so he's gonna have a field day when I get back. But the thing is, the lady's passed out cold in the back of the cab so if you're not the right place, I've got to be getting her to a hospital."

"No, no, no…" He pushed to door open wide. "This is the right place, but… she was out on the street? Alone?"

"Looked so to me."

Jack slid across the icy driveway, coming to a rough stop next to the passenger's door of the taxi.

"You sure you can get her by yourself?"

He ignored the driver's disbelief. After being kept from seeing her except for the fleeting glimpse through Brennan's bedroom door, he was wary of finally being able to see her in the unforgiving light of day, even a gray and dreary day such as it was. Booth hadn't been descriptive, but he'd provided just enough details to give Jack nightmares. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he wrenched the door open and crouched down next to Angela who had slipped into a crumpled heap on the backseat.

"Angela?" He touched her shoulder but got no response. Slowly, he got her back into a sitting position, brushing the hair back from her face as he did so. He sucked in a slow breath and glanced at the driver who hovered nearby. He stuck his hand in his pocket and handed the bills that appeared to the driver who tried to wave them off.

"You sure you don't want me to drive her to a hospital?"

"No…"

"Angela?" He forced the woman to accept the money he shoved at her so that he could turn his full attention to Angela.

"No hospital," she muttered.

"Okay, you've got it, no hospital." He slid her into his arms and out of the car. "Angela?"

"Hmm?" She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

"Where's everyone else?"

/to be continued/


End file.
